Silent Bookstore Companion
by Autumn37
Summary: Young Emma and Killian. Something I just came up with. I don't know if I will continue. Let me know what you think. (If I continue Mary Margaret and David will be in it too.)
1. Chapter 1

Some people have a church, others have theaters, even sports stadiums, but my sanctuary is the bookstore. Seriously just being in the same mind, in the same whirlwind as F. Scott Fitzgerald, William Blake, Robert Frost, and all of these other authors. With "the best of times and worst of times", making decisions when "two roads diverge in a yellow wood", working with the Chimney Sweepers, and having raving parties at the Gatsby residence. It gives me life.

Every day after school I come here. Andrew, the store owner, doesn't really mind as long as I don't damage any of the books. I would buy them, but mom and dad have limit my book allowance to a book once a month if I keep up with my chores. Anyway, I sit in the back corner with my nose in a book, escaping the daily stresses and enter my world of stories. Today it's _1984_, and so far it is great. The characters seem complex, but appealing and…suddenly, I feel a presence.

You know that presence you feel when someone is staring at you? Like you feel their eyes boring into your soul or something, so I have to look up. Standing down the row from me is some gawky looking kid, with a black mop top and piercing blue eyes. Just standing there, staring. The only thing that made it less weird is he at least had the decency to be holding a book.

"Hi?" I say, looking at him expectantly. He blinks. Then he puts the book on the shelf, reaches into his back pocket, and appears with a memo pad and a pen. He takes a minute to write something down against a shelf and walks up to me. He hold out the memo pad with both of his hands, and I stare at him like he is nuts. He just side smiles and gestures to the pad.

**Hi.**It says.

"Is this some kind of joke?" I ask him. Hurt flashes through his eyes for a second before he takes a deep sigh and sits down cross-legged in from of me and begins to scribble something else down. Now I feel bad, Dad says I have impeccable wit, but also the inability to have a filter, so I wonder whether or not it sounded rude. I didn't mean to be mean, I am just not accustomed to communicating through memo pad.

**I am mute. **Well great! Now I feel like a jerk. I sigh and run my hands through my long hair and look up at him guiltily.

"I'm sorry. I…" I begin, but he cuts me off by scribbling something down very quickly.

**It's okay, you don't have to feel sorry for me. I know you don't generally meet a lot of mute people. **He gives me a warm smile and shrugs.

"Yeah but…You see, my dad says that I don't have a filter and I need to learn to think before I say things. I didn't mean to sound annoyed or anything. I…I'm just…Sorry." He laughs, silently of course, but you can tell that is what he is doing.

**I'm Killian. What's your name?**

I open my mouth to respond, then quickly shut it and give him a smirk. I shut the book and place it beside me before sitting cross-legged and looking at him challengingly. "THAT is classified information." He raises his eyebrows at me and smiles.

**That's not fair, I told you my name!**

"I didn't ask you to." I argue.

**So?**

"So." I laugh.

**How old are you? **

"Classified."

**You're not going to tell me anything?**

"Nope! Stranger danger." He shakes his head and leans against the wall.

**Why aren't you in school?**

"Why aren't you in school?" I respond. He starts to write a response, but I stop him. "What happens when you run out of paper?"

**I get more. Duh. Or I use my hand, but that is more annoying. **He mimics licking his thumb and erasing something on his hand and then makes a disgusted face. I laugh.

"Why are you even talking to me sir?" I raise my eyebrow. "You can't just go around randomly talking to people."

**Isn't that how you meet people?**

"That is beside the point." I roll my eyes. "You're like what? Eleven?"

**I am ****13**** thank you very much!** He acts mock offended. **What about you? You look ten.**

"I am thirteen too, jerk." I slap his arm. Then I look at him weirdly. Actually this whole situation is weird. I just met the kid and all of a sudden we are acting like we are the best of friends or something. "Um...why are you here?"

He looks kind of hurt, and scratches the back of his neck nervously. **I have lived here for about a year, but I didn't really get out much. But now I can and I am just trying to make friends. Is that okay with you?** He smiles wickedly, so I know he isn't serious, but that doesn't stop me from looking at him skeptically.

"Okay?" I hesitate.

**I just saw you sitting there reading that book, and I was staring at the cover to figure out what it is. I don't really get to read new books that much, but I am always looking for new options.**

"Oh!" I say, picking up the book and showing him the cover. "_1984_, totally rad book!"

**Totally rad? **He laughs.

"Shut up!" I nudge him.

**Yeah well, I don't really talk to people, but you looked approachable. So I introduced myself and here we are.**

"Here we are." I say, followed by an awkward silence. "Well, I am Emma." I extend my hand and he shakes it.

**Killian. Obviously. **He shrugs.

"Well Killian, it was nice meeting you, but my dad will have my head on a platter if I don't get to the station right after school." I say, slowly getting to my feet. He reaches down, picks up the book, and hands it to me. "Thanks."

**Playing hooky?**

"Yeah" I say sheepishly. "But don't tell."

**I won't, but…The station?**

"The police station, my dad runs it." I tell him. "I meet him there every day after school, so I have to get over there before he…why am I telling you this?" He shrugs. "Okay, well…see ya!"

**Bye **

I dash out of the store with a crescendo of bells behind me.


	2. Chapter 2

**You guys are totally rad! Honestly. To begin with, I am trying my best to write from the perspective of a thirteen year old who is still trying to figure out what it is to be a teenager. Moodiness and all. Quite difficult, but definitely enjoyable.**

**Thank you so much for the reviews, follows, etc! I got excited so I hurriedly tried to get this out for you all. Go easy on me because I stayed up late doing it. **

**Ps. If you have any ideas, recommendations, or constructive criticism for me, shoot them my way! Don't be shy, I just ask that you be respectful about it. I like interacting with you guys. I have some idea of where I am going with this story, but it would be nice to gain some perspective for those deary cases of writer's block that are inevitably in my future. Thanks!**

* * *

"SUPER COOL PARTY PEOPLE!" I shout as I enter the station, munching on the granola bar Mom packed for me. "Dad, we FINALLY finished our basketball unit in P.E. today. Thank God!" I laugh, walking down the hallway.

"I mean basketball is cool, but I am more like a soccer type person." I crumple up the wrapper in my hand as I drop the last bit of the bar in my mouth.

"Well I guess it does serve a purpose," I mumble, "Like this!" I begin to dribble an imaginary ball on the ground, do a twirl, jump up, and shoot the wrapper in the nearest trash can. "SHE SHOOTS! SHE SCORES!" The wrapper lands in the trash after ricocheting off the rim. "AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!" I point my arms upward and wiggle my legs from side to side, while making the sound of the audience.

"Emma." A firm voice says, pulling me out of my imaginary championship game. Only then do I realize that my mom and dad are staring at me with stern expressions. Dad perched behind the computer and Mom leaning on the desk, both with their arms crossed.

"Uuum…" I begin with utter confusion. "Did I do something that I am not aware of?" I look from my mom to my dad and back again. What just happened?

"Oh you are perfectly aware." Mom cryptically says, which drives me nuts! I don't understand why parents stand there and make you guess what you did wrong. There is no way I am guessing! I've made _that_ mistake before. (Hint: Has to do with disclosing something that I wasn't even in trouble for, until _after_ I revealed it.)

"Uh, would you like to enlighten me?" I respond.

"Tone." Dad warns. I scoff. Is he serious? Why do they always have to double-team me? I don't know what is going on, so I don't know what to apologize for!

"I am not trying to be disrespectful, I swear!" I say, holding up my arms in surrender. "I just don't know..."

"Where were you today?" Mom cuts me off with an eyebrow raise. Busted!

"I don't know what you are talking about." I dumbly retort, taking a seat in the swivel chair behind the other desk.

"Emma Swan Nolan." Mom demands. "You have got to be kidding me. I am a teacher at your school. You cannot seriously believe that I wouldn't find out about this."

"Speaking of," I say, rotating from side to side and looking up at the ceiling, "you do too much Mom. I mean, you are a mother of three _and_ a wife of a Sheriff, not to mention being a wife in general, _and_ a teacher who spends an entire day with unruly children _and_… well, you get the idea. I think you should just take a break from teaching. Who's with me?" I pump my fist upward, only to be rewarded by glares. "I guess not."

"You skipped your last two classes today?" Dad says, more like a statement than a question.

"Again." Mom adds. I internally roll my eyes, knowing there is no way I can do it externally.

"I mean, I just…wait! How did you find out?" I question, trying to shift the focus of the conversation.

"Doesn't matter how we found out." Dad responds, getting to his feet and rounds the desk, knowing exactly what I am doing. "Emma we love you, but you have got to learn that doing what you want, when you want, is not okay. Especially when you are breaking the rules."

"I don't understand why I have to go to school anyway." I answer, swiveling around once. "I read all the time and am smarter, well at least not narrow-minded, like all the rest of my class. They are like clueless robots." I pause. "Plus, I hate Algebra." My parents look at one another and communicate through a series of facial expressions that I can't read, unfortunately.

"We will talk about this later," Mom responds exasperated, standing up straight with a weary look on her face. "We have to go pick up your brother and sister from Granny's."

"Can't I stay with dad?" I whine, pleading with my father, but he shakes his head. Mom in an identical stance.

"Not a chance, but nice try." Dad smirks. "You're going home with your mother."

"Let's go." Mom tells me, tossing her purse over her shoulder.

"Oooh someone is testy." I sass, following behind her.

"Better believe it babe." She sasses back.

~.~

"_There's a hole in the bottom of the sea. There's a hole in the bottom of the sea. There's a hole, there's a hole, there's a hole in the bottom of the sea._

"_There's a log in the hole in the bottom of the sea. There's a log in the hole in the bottom of the sea. There's a hole, there's a hole, there's a hole in the bottom of the sea._

"_There's a bump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea. There's a bump on the log…"_ If you think that is annoying, imagine hearing it! My younger siblings, every other day, think it is so fun to sing irritatingly cute songs on the way to anywhere. I promise, my ears are bleeding. Literally. (Not literally.)

Using the imaginary dividing line, between the driver's and passenger seat with the back seats, to my advantage and try to block them out. I hug my knees to my chest, as my backpack is thrown around on the floor of the car.

"Neal. Charlie." Mom calls out, looking at them through the mirror. "Settle down please."

"But Mama, it's a fun song to sing!" My seven-year old sister squeals. In annoyance, I let my head drop to my knees.

"Yeah." My brother agrees. "Ruby taught it to us. Isn't it funny?"

"So funny." I sarcastically mumble under my breath. "It's not like you haven't been singing it for the past ten minutes straight or anything."

"Guys please." Mom says. "I need quiet time today okay?" Quiet time. That means, Mom didn't get much sleep last night, for one reason or another, and is crabby because of it. "So, when we get home you can have a snack, and then I want all of you to go to your rooms. I don't care whether or not you nap, just do a quiet activity okay?" I roll my eyes at, what I have labeled as, her 'teacher voice'.

The car grows quiet. We know not to argue and just opt for staring out our windows. With my head resting on the door frame, I watch all of the buildings fly by in a blur. It isn't until we are almost home that I see something that catches my attention. The kid. That weird kid from bookstore earlier today, except…

I let my legs drop to the floor as I force myself to sit up straight. "What?" I whisper. His eyes is what gets me, not the situation as a whole. It's my super power. I can read through people, even if they are trying to put up a façade.

The guy, what was his name? Oh! Killian. Killian, walking down the street with what looked like…I squint my eyes…Mr. Gold?

The elderly man, unnecessarily wearing suit, limping with cane in hand and an uncomfortable teen beside him. Uncomfortable, being an understatement. There are so many emotions coming from this guy. His posture screaming anger, much like mine after Mom has given me a good scolding, but there is something else. Something I really can't put my finger on. Fear? No. I don't know.

"Mom?" I say, breaking the silence and keeping my eyes glued on the pair.

"Hmm?" She hums, focusing on the road.

"Who is that?" I ask, trying to get her to look before we passed them. "Look, look, look!"

"What?" Mom quickly glances to her right at the sound of my urgency. "Who is who, honey?"

"That kid." I respond, using my eyes to point in his direction.

"I think that is the nephew Mr. Gold was talking about." She says, craning her neck to look in the mirror and catch a glimpse at my brother and sister, who are out like a light. "He has had a pretty rough childhood and is now staying with his uncle until further notice."

I listen, still looking out the window even after we have passed the two. Mr. Gold has a nephew? How is that even possible? Does he even have family of his own?

Mr. Gold is just one of those creepy guys in a neighborhood who have been there so long that no one asks about his past. For all I know, he could be half alien or something. Maybe he was abducted and raise by aliens, and sent back to cause mayhem and aid his alien family in taking over the world. Right?

Looking into the rear-view mirror, I squint my eyes and stare at their silhouettes as they disappear in the distance. Nephew? I don't buy it.


End file.
